The Writer’s Church

How Coffee Shops Shape My Creative Ritual

Alt text: A cozy workspace with low wooden tables, teal and indigo cushions on a raised platform, warm wooden floors, brick walls, rattan pendant lights, and natural light streaming through large glass windows, where people sit working or relaxing in a serene atmosphere.

If writing is a spiritual practice, coffee shops are like church.

Not all of them are created equally. Some are small, cozy, and cluttered. You see them hiding in dusty alleyways with dilapidated book stacks like mini Leaning Towers of Pisa. There is usually a one-eyed cat with matted fur that frequents the sporadic spots of sunlight that spotlight the fraying La-Z-Boy armchair. You find yourself in a hidden corner, writing about the smell of your grandmother’s floral dresses or the taste of the first girl you ever kissed. You sink into the crushed couch, with only an empty, chipped ceramic mug—the previous home of your long-gone $3 black coffee—cuddled beside you. The scent of roasted beans coils through the close corridors of collapsing bookshelves and hanging potted plants with dying leaves. There’s something warm about this place.

Some are clean, spacious, and grand. They live solo, across from the new organic grocery store and next to the fusion Mexican-Asian restaurant you keep meaning to try. The white walls stare at you as you sit up straight and type about how to live a happier life or the first time you moved away from home. The coffee is expensive and cakey on the tongue. Sometimes pop music fills the empty space, and you bring headphones to quiet the noise. The avocado toast is a work of art. Framed by a white plate, you wonder if they used tweezers to place each sesame seed. There’s something about this place that makes your skin itchy.

My favorite coffee shop is Indigo Specialty Coffee. The one in Hin Kong, not in Thong Sala. The Thong Sala location sits in the heart of Koh Phangan’s downtown area. It lives on a busy intersection between two banks and a Seven-Eleven. My Indigo lives across the street from Hin Kong beach, a shallow, somewhat unswimmable beach, perfect for sunset-gazing and beach-strolling. The street outside can be noisy during the day because motorbikes zoom past to either go up north to Sritanu, the spiritual hub of the island, or down south to Thong Sala. But other than the occasional roar of a moving vehicle, most of the noises you hear outside are not man-made. You can hear the sounds of chirping cicadas, the twittering of tropical birds, and if you listen closely, sometimes you can hear the ocean.

Most people don’t know that Indigo is a two-story building. When you first arrive at the coffee shop, you are immediately greeted by the popular outdoor seating area with fluffy pillows and wicker seats. All of the pillows are colored different shades of, of course, indigo, some leaning towards teal while others match their deep-blue namesake. The round tables are occupied by chatty German families feeding hyperactive children, shirtless Israeli men smoking full cigarettes, or sexy Australian couples petting fluffy dogs leashed to wooden tables. What I love most about Indigo is the hidden staircase on the side of the red-brick building, taking you far away from the clinking forks and crying children.

Once you climb those stairs, you are brought to my sacred cathedral. An open co-working space with high ceilings, natural light, and somewhat functioning aircon. It is my favorite place to write on the island, the perfect meeting of creativity and productivity, where inspiration can strike and catch fire.

Glass windows make up the entirety of the western wall, with green palm trees lining the view. The large rectangular room is lit only by sunlight—yellow on warm days, gray on rainy ones. Along the eastern wall is a row of low tables, shorter than your average nightstand, with flat lounge pillows lined at each workstation. Rather than being propped up in a chair, people can work with their backs supported by the artfully painted tan wall and their legs comfortably stretched against the dark wooden floor. If you were the kid who liked to color, belly flat on the ground and crayons sprawled out like stars against the carpeted sky, this is the perfect place for you.

The best part about this place? No music. No laughter. No signs of idle chatter. Only the magical symphony of keys clacking and coffee sipping. Just people silently working. Whether it’s cryptobros planning their next big money grab or holistic healers typing their next Instagram post, you feel the collective energy of people from all walks of life making their fantasies become reality.

Every day is a ritual.

I arrive at 9 a.m. Well, more like 9:15. I enter the pavilion and see the usual familiars sitting outside—the hairy-chested Israeli man scrolling on his Android, the tiny, tangled-haired Brazilian girl typing furiously on her scratched laptop, and the old British couple enjoying their morning tea. I first make eye contact with the Thai manager, Sol. Neck and arms full of tattoos, hair slicked back with gel, and a dazzling white smile that makes you forget the only English phrases he knows are, “How are you?” and “I’m fine, thank you.” I smile and ask him how he is, and we proceed to play out the same script we always do. We end awkwardly by nodding and breaking eye contact, and I walk away toward the entrance of the two-story red-brick building.

I stand in front of the automatic sliding door and lift on my tiptoes, waving my arms “Hello” since I’m too short for the door to sense me. Once they open, I walk straight to the register and greet the smiling Thai girl with the done-up face, glittering braces, and overgrown acrylic nails. She doesn’t know my name, but she remembers my order.

“Iced Americano?”

I smile and hand her the 85 baht.

“Upstairs?”

I nod and walk back outside, to the right, and up the stairs.

This door remembers me and opens right away. You can tell if it’ll be a good or bad day if the aircon is working. I am greeted by the cool air as I slip off my slides. My feet meet the echoey floor. Each step rings. I sit in my spot, the table closest to the door, and set up my laptop, journal, and table number like a perfect triangle laid out in front of me. Soon a waiter will come with my drink, delivered on a plank of crafted wood.

When I was a child, my father would always scold me for sitting in chairs incorrectly. I’d always want to prop my right knee up with my foot against the seat or, even worse, step and lean against another person’s chair. He’d criticize my posture, and I’d straighten my spine with my feet glued to the earth. I’d struggle to focus in conversation when my attention was dedicated to keeping my muscles in place. As I grew older, I’d work on my homework with my face pressed against my desk, using my elbow as a pillow. Then I’d give up and work on my bed, lying on my back with my book lifted to the sky.

My body wasn’t built to be tied to a chair. I was made to worship in the shape I was created in.

The perfect coffee shop isn’t the one with the best amenities, the ideal environment, or the trendiest food. It’s the one that suits your unique identity. I create best when I don’t worry about the way that I appear or the words that I hear. I need people’s presence without their words. I hate being alone, but I get easily distracted. I want to be close to nature, but I enjoy modern architecture. Curating the ideal writing space gives me room to just focus on writing.

Knees bent, arms stretched, body curled with the floor and wall holding me. My laptop is at eye level. My arms hug my knees as I hunch over and give words to my glowing screen. I breathe slowly, sipping my cold coffee, and let the creative energy flow through me. I feel the support of my silent coworkers. I hear the sounds of clicking dreams. I taste the freshly brewed coffee, and its zing brings me to life. In the moments in between my flashes of creativity, I look up and out west toward the ocean. All I see are floating leaves, blue sky, and a world full of possibilities.

---

Thanks for reading! Someone once requested that I write more about what Koh Phangan is like, and it felt right to write about my favorite place on the island. Let me know if you enjoyed it or if there are other things about my life living in Thailand that you have curiosity about!